I like running. Well no, I shouldn't say that. I don't actually run even. I don't get it, personally. It hurts, it makes me sore afterwards. I don't like the shock to the knees, and I've always got more pressing things at hand. Like all life's little stresses, for example. And they're not always so little. Yes, I must admit that I hate running. What I love is running away.
Not the way Forrest Gump did it, but to the same virtue maybe. Sometimes in a car, sometimes on a plane, but today it's on a bike, which I prefer sometimes because I can feel the world fly by through my hair, feel the distance grow behind me on my face, and feel everything faster and alive. Today running away is galloping off to work, but it feels grand all the same. And I only turn back to check traffic.
[time for work]
